The Rites of Spring
by mythweaver1
Summary: FFIV. Post-game. Spring can't seem to come fast enough for Rydia; but in Troia, perhaps she'll find the change of seasons she's been hoping for. V-day fic-a-thon entry!


A/N: Because I DEMAND SPRING, ALREADY. And summer, because festivals XP

Oh, what's this? Mythweaver never writes enough E/Ry even though they're her favorite pairing? BAM!

This falls under the V-day prompts of...gifts, um...dancing...and coincidentally in love. Possibly others... :P

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**The Rites of Spring**

Rydia ducked out of the rain and under the protection of a low awning. Her boots were splashed with mud and the hem of her cloak was soaked several inches deep in water, but she gave little thought to the drab circumstances of the weather and the state of her outerwear.

She was in Troia for a far different reason—to celebrate the festival of spring.

The crowds of Troia's capital city were crammed beneath several long pavilions to escape the deluge, and Rydia wove her way between people and stone pillars twined with ivy, as shop keepers keenly plied their trade at curious onlookers. Rydia kept her hood pulled carefully over her face. It had been four years since the war, but her notoriety at having been one of its heroes had not waned. There was something comforting about being an anonymous face in the crowd, and she enjoyed being buffeted and bumped into as though she were anyone else.

The sound of merry fiddles drifted through the steady thrum of raindrops on the roof, and Rydia smiled, feeling the spirit of spring entice her steps and lighten her mood. She was glad she had taken Rosa's advice and allowed herself this diversion. Mist had been heavy on her thoughts for many months, but here in Troia in the closeness of the forest and the warm comfort of rain, she felt her worries roll from her shoulders like water droplets.

Rydia walked on the balls of her feet, practically dancing through the bunched up lines and idle gawkers, and flitted between stalls festooned with colorful scarves and decorative pendants batiqued with the crests of Troia's eight houses. Another stall revealed jewelry fashioned into appealing organic forms; while another, was inundated with the sweet heady smell of incense, fragrant soaps, and perfumes. Rydia found herself drawn into the mystery and charm of this small little world. It was almost like being out of time and out of self, a stranger to life and its novelties all over again.

She sidestepped around a stand decorated with festive hats, and stumbled into a stall that caused her breath to catch briefly in her throat. The stall was composed entirely of found and twisted vines, and all about her, were elegant pendants suspended from long chains tied to a lattice of branches above her head. The artisan of the stand nodded to her with a wizened smile from a weathered face.

Rydia gazed up at the beautiful baubles strung above her, walking slowly through the cords and chains that swayed lethargically in the breeze. Rydia felt her heart lighten with a sense of whimsy and wonder, and was about to pass through the miniature arbor and into another stall, when a flicker of lamplight on a green stone caught her interest. She squinted, searching for the stone amidst the others, shining like multicolored stars, and worked her way backwards. A stiff breeze from the rains swept through the pavilion, striking wind chimes in other stalls like bells; while the pendants enclosing Rydia lilted and swung to their own music—flickering with vermillion fire, ocean azure, and forest verdigris. At last, she found it: a brilliant green stone streaked with amber.

Just as she reached out to grasp the beautiful pendant from the air, a polished stone in the fashion of a teardrop—flat and smooth—another hand intercepted it, snaking its golden chain from the bower and dangling it like a pendulum in front of her face. Rydia blinked, her eyes drawn from the stone to the person holding it.

She was disappointed at being unable to see the man's face from beneath his hooded cloak, but she recognized the knowing grin on lips she had long learned to read through masks; though today he wore none.

"Have you been following me all along?" she asked lightly.

Edge's grin widened into a smile, and Rydia could imagine the sparkle of mischief in his eyes. "Not for as long as you think," he told her, his expression sobering as he regarded the pendant he still held between them.

"It suits you," he said, and Rydia took the moment to admire the depth captured in the stone; the rich bands of amber reflecting light on a field of lustrous green. The fastening around the stone itself was intricate; delicate coils of gold that cradled the stone like the very arbor the two of them were standing beneath.

"How did you know it was this pendant I was searching for?" she wondered.

"If it was a matter of taste, you would have chosen any one of these. But not all stones suit any one person; and you, like me, were drawn to the only one that did," he said simply.

Rydia quelled the rivalry she felt brewing in her spirit, annoyed at him presuming to know more about her than she cared for him to.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked disappointedly, having thought herself well disguised.

Edge reached out with his other hand and gently tugged at a lock of her jade colored hair that had escaped her hood. Rydia sighed.

"I see I have to do better to fool you," she lamented.

"Did you want to be alone?" he asked, sounding mutually disappointed.

She peered up at him, considering his question. She had seen only half of what the festival had to offer, and wondered if the experience might be improved with a companion.

"This is the festival of spring, after all," he prodded, deeming her pause too long.

She nodded, chagrined. This was the festival of life and love and birth, and here she was, all alone.

"No, not entirely," she answered with a rueful smile.

"Good," he replied, striding toward the vendor to purchase the necklace.

The shopkeeper thanked them, and Rydia frowned at Edge when he dropped the pendant into her palm. "You didn't have to do that," she complained, even as her fingers reveled in the smoothness of the stone.

"Consider it a gift for the holiday," he told her.

She arched a brow as he plucked the necklace out of her hand again, clutching opposite ends of the chain with long skilful fingers. Her cheeks flamed once she realized he intended to put it on her. He took a step closer so his fingers could work the clasp at the nape of her neck beneath her hood and hair. The close contact sent unexpected thrills down her spine, and the warmth of his presence surprised her.

Once the clasp had been secured, he retracted one hand, but the fingers of the other trailed down the chain to where the pendant lay against her collarbone. Rydia knew her cheeks were still aflame, and probably her neck as well, but all she could do was swallow hard to disguise her quickened heartbeat.

"It definitely suits you," Edge remarked without any guile, finally pulling his hand away and letting the stone rest comfortably against her skin.

Rydia had to give him credit for not persisting his advances, but now found her senses alert with interest.

"Shall we?" Edge asked, ignoring her unease, and beckoning away from the stall, toward the rest of the pavilion.

Rydia nodded, attempting to slow her breathing even while she found it hard not to be acutely aware of him.

Once they had walked through several more aisles and been diverted by the sights and sounds of the festival, did Rydia finally relax and enjoy his company. She had been concerned for a moment, that Edge would reveal his identity to the crowds, exposing her identity as well, but was delightfully surprised to find he preferred the same level of anonymity as herself. Then again—she supposed she shouldn't be surprised at all.

As they continued to browse the wares and baubles, Rydia found herself reminiscing about the days when the two of them in such close quarters had been nothing unusual at all. They had been through tighter spots, emptier halls, and greater sights than this, certainly, but it had been years since then.

How long had it been since she'd seen him? Months? A year? She frowned at the thought, right up until he gently took hold of her shoulder and directed her attention to a collection of beautiful chimes that twisted in elegant spirals. She smiled, amused that he was willing to indulge her childlike wonder at such simple things. With some measure of chagrin, she also realized how much she had missed his company.

"Edge," she asked him later, between bites of fresh fruit.

"Hm," he answered, looking at her from under his hood.

"What _are _you doing here?" she wanted to know, still surprised at his being in Troia.

He simply grinned and returned his gaze to the milling crowds. "It's still winter in Eblan," he said after a moment. "I needed a taste of spring."

Rydia puzzled over his answer. "Did you know I would be here?" she asked.

"I did not," he explained, glancing back at her. "But I'm glad you are."

Rydia smiled at that, content with his reply.

They sat together at the fringes of the crowds, watching the festival goers while the rain continued to fall, and the music to play.

After a time, Edge stood up, extending her a hand. "Come on," he said.

"What?" Rydia asked, looking at him in surprise.

He beckoned her with his fingers, hurrying her along. "Come on," he repeated.

She accepted his hand and he pulled her out of one pavilion and into the next, through puddles and mud, and to the back of a ring of onlookers.

The music Rydia had heard strains of before was now bright and close. Flutes, fiddles, and hand drums played out fast rhythms that had the crowd clapping and tapping their feet, while some were brave enough to dance. Edge maneuvered them closer to the musicians, and Rydia felt her anxiety mount as she realized what he was up to.

"I am not dancing," she objected, tugging at his hand.

He glanced back at her, bemused. "Who doesn't dance at the festival of spring?" he asked.

"I don't," Rydia retorted, digging her heels into the pavilion floor.

Before she could turn to flee, Edge took hold of her other hand and spun her around. "You're dancing, summoner," he informed her.

Rydia felt her heart leap to her throat. "You're mad if you think I'm going to embarrass myself in front of this crowd," she balked.

Edge narrowed his eyes at her. "Ignore them," he said, pulling her insistently toward the dance floor.

Rydia reluctantly allowed herself to be dragged among the other couples already dancing. It was a quick jig, mostly footwork and fast twirls, and Rydia stared dubiously at Edge who appeared nonplussed by the situation.

"Just stay with me," he told her, taking her by the hands and leading her into the rhythms.

It took a moment for Rydia to realize that this was not Edge's style of dancing in the slightest, and that he was laughing not at her, but mostly at himself. She smiled, all of a sudden comprehending that this was not about dignity and composure at all—it was entirely for amusement. She bounced and twirled to the music, the hood of her cloak falling to her shoulders and her green hair swirling around her face as she laughed at them both.

The tune changed after a while, and Edge, always a quick study, had mastered most of the steps by then. Rydia followed his lead, not to be outdone, and before long, she noticed that the dance floor was suspiciously empty of participants save for the two of them. Edge noticed it too, and he grinned at her, pulling her through a reel.

"You're wicked!" she accused him, laughing.

He chuckled, slightly short of breath. "You catch on quickly," he told her, leading her by the hand as the music intensified, and the crowd began to clap and cheer.

The song ended with the two of them toe-to-toe, hand-to-hand; breathless and grinning, with the sound of the fiddles and flutes still loud in their ears. Rydia's cheeks were flushed with excitement, as she looked into his bright gray eyes. She was unsurprised when he leaned down to kiss her lips with his; smiling as they separated. Rydia giggled as the crowd began to chant anew.

"All hail the Lord and Lady of spring!" they cheered, as Edge caught her lips in another kiss and then spun her into the next dance of the set.

Rydia's feet took wings. She was glad she had come to Troia; and she was glad she had not ended the day alone. But mostly, she was glad that spring had come at last. ~

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A/N:

I've been sitting on this idea for several months now, lol. I'm glad I finally got to use it! I was wandering around an Irish festival and thinking...what would happen if...

I'm not entirely fond of the ending to this, and I may resolve it differently at a later time. We'll see.

This was fun to write, in any case :)

And now? We dance! XP

Thanks for reading!

~Myth


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